Here's an interesting story...no sex while backpacking...or funny moments...but its interesting and enlightening....
My mother is the type of person where she can relate to anyone...she went To Negril, Jamaica, stayed at a resort and made friends with this one young rasta guy that worked at the resort. (hooked her up with some greenery too). Anyways, she ends up going back to his village and meeting his friends and stuff...so, she came back to the US...
6 months later...She took me (16) and my older brother (19) down there....she stayed at the resort in Negril and we stayed in Kevin (the rasta dudes) village, shanty town, on a mountain...apparentally, all the tourists stay by the beach at the resorts and hotels, but all the locals live about 20 minutes away up in a mountain...
What an experience! For 2 weeks, I stayed in a 2 room house, luckily it had running water, with some of the coolest people I have ever met in my life. Its horrible what the government subjects them to. Kevin, had a "good" job and was only making around $50 a week. how the hell can you survive on that...let alone provide for a family. It was truly an eye opener. So of the houses were simply pieces of wood put together. It would be an overstatement to call it a shack.
2 weeks I stayed in this 2,000 person village...my brother and I were the ONLY white people there....What a change of roles....I only experienced a few instances of racism, but that was not a big deal seeing as how all my friends just told the people to "shut the fuck up."
2 weeks of hiking to waterfalls, diving off waterfalls, eating wild vegetables and fruits, playing soccer with the locals (I held my own, and surprised the hell out of many of the locals...I white boy that can play well...NO WAY), listening to reggea and dancehall constantly, learning about Rastafarianism, and of course, getting completely baked ALL THE TIME....
The most bud I have ever seen!!! I brought my rolling papers down there with me because I expected to be rollin some dubies, and when I got out the papers to roll one up, they laughed at me...I had 1.5in papers...those are pretty big, right? WRONG! They threw my dinky papers away and gave me some of their KING size papers...hilarious...every joint I smoked down there was at least 2 to 3 times bigger then the ones I smoked in the US...and another cool thing is that, when you smoke someone out, they dont usually share joints unless you are Really tight...usually they just give someone enough to roll their own joint...EVERYONE HAS THEIR OWN FAT SPLIFFS!!! YAY!!! They also took me up to a field of pot higher in the mountains...there was corn planted in between to disguise it from helicopters...but when I say it was a field, I mean a fucking FIELD!!! MOST POT EVEER!!!!!!!! it wasnt as good as the stuff in Amsterdam, but there was SO much of it, for next to nothing....my friends would get me it for like $5 for an ounce....
Anyways, The point of this story is that I had an eye-opening experience.....being an extreme minority and living with completely poverty stricken GOOD people....I gave them everything I had at the end of the trip except the shirt and pants I wore home....we stay in contact....and I am going again sometime soon, hopefully...
I came back to America, and disdained how selfish, greedy, and materialistic life is here....I wish I could not go along with it all, but I kinda have no choice but to be apart of THE SYSTEM.....Ce la vie......
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